Something to Do
Something to Do Something to Do When I heard that Grandpa was coming to live with my dad and me in Willow Creek, I thought that it would never work. I know Grandpa pretty well, and I just couldn't picture him anyplace but in his old neighborhood in the city, with his old friends who lived on the block. But after Grandma died, Grandpa was positive that he couldn't get along all by himself. He said he was ready to move to the country and slow down. Dad and I love Grandpa, and we did everything w
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Something to Do
Something to Do
When I heard that Grandpa was coming to live with my dad and me in Willow Creek,I thought that it would never work.I know Grandpa pretty well, and I just couldn't picture him anyplace but in his old neighborhood in the city,with his old friends who lived on the block.But after Grandma died, Grandpa was positive that he couldn't get along all by himself.He said he was ready to move to the country and slow down.
Dad and I love Grandpa, and we did everything we could to make him feel at home at our place.We fixed up the best bedroom in the house just for him,with his old reclining lounge chair and a nice TV.
We put his pictures of Grandma and our family on the dresser.I even put my aquarium in his room so he'd have some company during the daywhile I was at school and Dad was working at the Willow Creek Cafe.We wanted Grandpa to be comfortable.Well, he was comfortable - too comfortable!
Every morning Dad left to open up the Cafe, I left for school,and Grandpa settled into his old chair for a day of TV and snoozing.That's where we found him when we got home.
"Grandpa needs something to do," I said. "He needs to get some exercise."
Dad bought Grandpa a nice new pair of walking shoesand one of those pedometers you wear around your ankle that tells you how far you've gone.But Grandpa said that every time he went walking some big old dog came after himor he nearly got run over by a pickup truck.
"What's the sense in walking if you don't want to go anywhere?" said Grandpa.Grandpa sat in his lounge chair watching TV and the pedometer sat on his dresser.
"Maybe we could get Grandpa an exercise bicycle," I said."We could set it right in front of the TV and he could peddle all afternoon right through the soap operas."Dad said we couldn't afford one of those right now.
"Well, he still needs something to do," I said. "Maybe a nice hobby he could do at home."So Dad bought Grandpa a pyrography set.
"What is it?" asked Grandpa. I had the same question.Dad explained how you heated up the special tool and burned pictures or sayings onto wooden plaques.Well, this pyrography went over like a lead balloon.In other words, Grandpa didn't like it at all.
"I can't draw," he said. "Never could."
As for burning sayings into wood,Grandpa said he couldn't read his own writing even when he wrote with a regular ballpoint pen.Grandpa finished just one project, a sign that said, "do not disturb! sleeping!"
About the only thing I could ever get Grandpa to do was to go with me down to the Willow Creek Cafe and hang out.I would help Dad a little, taking the trash out to the dumpster,sweeping the floor, folding napkins, stuff like that.Grandpa would read all the notices on the bulletin board- free kittens, houses for rent, backhoe services, and farm auctions.Then he'd settle into a corner table and watch the TV on the wall.
"That man needs something to do," said Trish, the waitress."Maybe he needs a job." "Yeah," I agreed.
Well, it turns out Trish was smarter than the rest of us.We might have never found that out, though,if Dad hadn't had those two pieces of pie left over one night at closing time.
